Myself or Someone like You
by Dimitri A
Summary: The hell that is the Reed Cousins is about to hit Eden Hall and nothing will be the same. Between Fulton, Blair, and Damien everything the Ducks have faced so far will be a cakewalk. Slash, modified repost
1. Rip out the Wings of a Butterfly

Myself or Someone like You

I don't own the Mighty Ducks

Authors: Taiorami, Solis, Selena, Rochelle, and Dimitri.

Summery: The hell that is the Reed Cousins is about to hit Eden Hall and nothing will be the same. Between Fulton, Blair, and Damien everything the Ducks have faced so far will be a cakewalk.

Warnings: Slash, language, drug use, violence, original characters, and…such.

Tai: HAH! I was finally able to get into the part of my computer that 'died' a few years back. The stories shall live and return! That's right, flooding the Ducks section with Slash once again, but with more help and less chance of sanity. College hasn't mellowed me in the least, so…lets get cracking. Blair belongs to Dimitri and tends go where Damien does.

Dimitri: Eh…belongs to is a really…strong term. More like he lives in my head and curses at me if I don't obey his every command.

Tai: …kinky.

Dimitri: A little.

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Prelude

Rip Out the Wings of a Butterfly

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Charlie, Adam, and Portman were hovering outside of the Health room, annoyed looks on all three boys' faces. This was without a doubt the most annoying class of the day. They were counting the days until second semester when they finally switched over to gym class. Unfortunately they were only a few days into the beginning of their junior year so it went without saying that the next few months would drag.

Fulton came walking down the hall, looking decidedly cheerful. He was also without his books and the essay on the effects of smoking on the respiratory system they'd been forced to write as a review for the year before. It would have been a lot easier had they paid attention in class the year before and knew the difference between Respiratory and Reproductive system, but…well they didn't.

"Why are you so damn happy?" Portman asked. Fulton could understadn the confusion, as he was less that academically inclinded and was more likely to skip class than look happy to attend.

"I have a feeling I'll be called out of class before the teacher has a chance to collect those essays."

Charlie raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Sure you will. I have a feeling too."

"Oh?" Adam asked, glancing over at the other boy.

"Yeah, I have a feeling Fulton's gonna get blasted for not doing his homework already." Charlie nodded sagely, a smile tugging at his lips.

"Mock while you can non-believers." Fulton said, looking confident before sliding in the class. The other three trailed in just as the bell rang. They were headed to their seats in the back when the phone in the front of the class rang. Mr. Gavin sighed and walked over to the phone that connected all of the rooms and the office. It was supposedly easier then sending people to go get a student or having an intercom system.

"Hello? Yes he's here…okay. Fulton come up here." Gavin looked a little disappointed at this development. His three friends watched with unconcealed envy as Fulton walked up to the teacher and accepted a pass. He waved then slid out of the classroom.

He already knew what was going on of course, but any chance to get out of Health was like a gift from god. That class was truly evil. And the teacher…well, he and Portman would have loved to show Mr. Gavin what the Bash Brothers were all about.

It took a few minutes to navigate the many halls and winding paths to the office. He got there and the receptionist smiled sweetly and waved him into the main office. He wondered if it was sad that most of the faculty actually sucked up to him and the rest of the team, now that they were the stars of Eden Hall and all that good stuff.

The Dean was sitting in his chair, a slightly nervous look on his face. Fulton sat down in the chair across from him.

"You wanted me?"

"Uh, yes." The man coughed. "We recently received an application from two teens in Georgia, a bit later that I'd normally look at but they both listed yourself as a character reference and well…I need to ask you a few things about them. Do you know Damien Reed and Blair Cassidy?"

Fulton nodded. "My cousins. Great students, wonderful grades. I'd really like having Dai around here, used to help me with my studying and it's be awful if my grades went down. Blair too, they're really great motivators."

"Oh." There was a short pause. Fulton hid a smirk. Yeah, this ranked as sad. He wondered if he could get a TV or something if he tried hard enough. For educational programming and…that kind of stuff.

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A few hours later found Fulton on the phone, reporting back on his 'mission'. "Yeah, you two are pretty much in. I told you, I hinted that my grades might slip and he practically offered to pay for your plane tickets."

"You manipulative bastard." The voice on the other end was light and had an almost soothing quality to it. "I've taught you so well."

"You taught him?" The other was raspy and, like that of a few smokers that Fulton knew. One would never guess the person was only 16. "You?"

"Of course B. Who is more adept at pouting and getting their way than I?"

"You mean who's a bigger Daddy's _Girl_?" Fulton asked, rolling his eyes though neither could see it. "No one Damien, no one."

"Exactly my point. Mock now, but when this Daddy's Girl gets a car for his sevententh birthday you'll be begging to know my secrets."

"Your delusions of grandeur never cease to amaze me."

"Ah, poor Blair, so naïve." Fulton laughed, leaning against the wall. He loved talking to these two; something about the easy way they teased and were never afraid of what he might say just put him at ease. Having them in Minnesota was a dream come true, not to mention in school with him. It'd been almost…nine years since they'd been in school together, since his parents moved north.

Things were about to change and he couldn't wait.

"So, how'd Kyle take the news you were leaving?" There was a slight hitch in the breathing of one of his cousins and then a long silence on both ends. He could almost imagine Damien and Blair exchanging looks while Blair bit his bottom lip and Damien twirled a strand of hair around his finger. "Damien?"

"We…Kyle and I aren't talking anymore. Since the summer."

"Way to keep me informed." Kyle had been Damien's 'boyfriend', as much as anyone could be to any boy with a severely overprotective father could be, for about a year and a half and his crush for a lot longer than that. Fulton had known him since he was a kid, since he'd lived down the road from where Fulton's family once had.

"Eh. Don't worry about it." Blair said, voice a touch strained. "After all, you can't expected our Damien to be pinned to one guy now that he's finally busting out of here, can you?"

"I suppose not." He said, letting it slide for the time being. It was rare that his cousins didn't tell him something and even rarer when they blatantly hid something, but it would keep until they arrived.

Two weeks from now and he'd have all the time in the world with them.

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This prelude will, at some point, be edited. Honest. We promise.


	2. Chapter 1: Had a Bad day Again

Myself or Someone like You

I don't own the Mighty Ducks

Authors: Taiorami, Solis, Selena, Rochelle, and Dimitri.

Summery: The hell that is the Reed Cousins is about to hit Eden Hall and nothing will be the same. Between Fulton, Blair, and Damien everything the Ducks have faced so far will be a cakewalk.

Warnings: Slash, language, drug use, violence, original characters, and…such.

Dimitri: Attention span of a crazed gnat. I'm not ashamed to admit that.

Rochelle: The Word of the Day is Dysfunction. As in "We love Dysfunction' not as in "Erectile". Thank you.

Tai: I think we should fix up the summery, now that we have an actual plot and all.

Dimitri: But it's so upbeat and positive. There should be upbeat and positive somewhere.

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Chapter One

Had a Bad Day Again

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Friday came, the first Friday of the new year and personally Fulton had been ready for it since arriving on Sunday. Literally, his bag had been ready by the door the minute he finished unpacking his stuff when he'd gotten to school. Once the bell rang letting him out of what felt like a five hour Geometry class he was on his way out, stopping at his room to grab his bag and then heading down to the bus stop. He already know Portman would be down there, waiting for him, and that some of the others would also be heading out for the weekend.

The bus ride was loud at first, all of the Duck's talking at once and re-capping the week as if they didn't see each other everyday, for hours at a time, and hadn't heard it all prior to now. Portman was silent, too busy being an overachiever and doing work that Fulton would, in true slacker style, be doing at 3 AM Monday morning, so he talked to Charlie and Adam instead. Adam's weekend plan's included helping his brother pack to go back to school, something he'd be doing happily as long as it meant he wouldn't have to look at him again until November, and sleeping. Charlie had plans with Linda, a thing he had to do with his mom that he didn't seem to want to talk about it, and sleeping.

Charlie was the last to get off besides him and Portman and by then the bus was decidedly quieter now that it was free of high school students. He leaned back in his seat, glancing behind him to see that Portman was still focused on 'The Great Gatsby' and had a page of notes to prove it.

It was disgusting really how much work he put into school, especially when you compared it to Fulton who had been a hair away from losing his scholarship the year before over Algebra. He'd managed to bring up his grade thanks to many nights jumped up on coffee, Julie, Adam, and Portman. He was re-taking the class at his own request (Which roughly translated into 'he was bullied into it by Coach Orion'. The coach had been 'promoted' to Varsity the same year they'd moved up and seem to have taken a personal interest in all of their academics.) as well as Geometry and was pretty sure he was going to burn out by December. It'd be worth it in the long run if he could keep up his grades enough to score a scholarship to a college and be one step closer to getting the hell out of his parent's house and a life of his own.

Not that he didn't love his parents it was just...complex.

He looked up, biting back a groan at the sight of his neighborhood coming into sight. It was a Friday, coming up on five-thirty so his father should have been at work and his mother should have been getting ready to go herself. Whether or not that was what they were going to find today was pretty much up in the air, but he was kind of used to things not going the way they should.

Kind of like living in Minnesota at all. They'd come up because his Mother's mother had gotten sick and, in spite of giving birth and raising six kids, his mother had been the only one willing to come and take care of her. He'd been told they would move back when Grandma got better but she never did; she'd died when he was nine. They didn't move back though, instead deciding to live in the very apartment his mother had grown up in, the top floor of a house her mother had rented for nearly forty years. To say Fulton had been angry would be a vast understatement and to say he'd been lonely would be an even bigger one.

It wasn't like home, where everything had moved at a slower pace, he had friends and family all around, and everyone seemed to know him and his parents. Now that he was old enough to consider such things he wondered if that very thing was the reason they had moved, and stayed, North to begin with.

He'd adjusted eventually; joined the Ducks, made new friends, got kind of famous and lucked himself into the sort of education his parents would have never been able to afford from him. It had worked out for him in the long run.

He pushed the door that revealed the stairs up to the apartment open, frowning as strains of music reached his ears. Old, weepy country rock, a favorite of his father's. It was almost eerie, he thought as he climbed the stairs with Portman at his heels, how like the first time he'd ever brought someone over his house this was.

He'd broken the strap of one of his roller blades and had needed to come home to fix it and, though he hadn't wanted to, had to let Portman come with him. He couldn't just leave him in the park after all and he still wasn't familiar enough with the city to find his way back to Eden Hall without some help. He'd hoped that that day would be one of the days his parents both got up and went to work but he'd known that someone was home when he'd stepped into the stairwell and heard the radio. He'd hesitated on the bottom step, not wanting to go any further but knowing that he couldn't very well turn around at this point either, not with Portman right behind him and no excuse as to why they couldn't go on readily available.

Except the truth of course, which was exactly what Fulton didn't want anyone to know.

It was not overly unusual for Fulton to find his parents pass out on the couch or in the kitchen when they should have been at work or to come home from school and find everything trashed and littered with bottles and wrappers or for him to leave for days and come back without having his parents know time had passed, let alone that he was gone. Which, he supposed, sounded pretty bad but had never troubled him. He'd learned to clean the house, make sure their was food, cook for himself and learn to pay bills after an incident with the heat being shut off one year. He'd been more self-sufficient at eleven than some people would be at their peak, not to mention he'd had the kind of freedom other kids screamed and slammed doors about.

His parents could be prodded into cleaning up to meet teachers, coaches, and even came to some of his games on their own, without so much as a word from him. Not so much lately, but when he'd been younger at least and now that he was older he didn't really need them to do too many things other than sign papers anyway.

He wasn't so stupid as to think that everyone would approve of his family situation though and so while other kids had birthday parties, went out with their parents, and had friends over to their houses he'd had none of that. He took care of them and knew that if something ever happened where he couldn't do it that no one else would. He'd likely continue to take care of them his whole life, just from a few states away if he got his way.

He opened the door, wondering what awaited him today. There were bottles everywhere and ashtrays half-filled with ash and butts on just about every surface. A few glasses, not all empty, and plates were on the table but beyond that it looked more or less like he'd left it before his dad had driven him to school on Sunday.

He dropped his bag on the floor and started to shed his coat as he walked through the living room. He dropped that on the couch and began to pick up the things that didn't belong in the room on his way back to his parent's room.

"Hey, Portman-"

"I got it." He looked over his shoulder to see that Portman had already pick up some of the ashtrays and was making his way through the room to gather up the rest. Fulton nodded, though it wasn't like Portman was looking at him, then walked into the dark bedroom. The curtains were drawn, blocking out the late summer sun, but it was familiar territory and his eyes zeroed in on the huddled up figure on the bed. He bent next to the bed and lightly shook his mother.

"Mom." He kept his voice low; his mother hated when he yelled to wake her up. He called her a few more times and then her eyes blinked open, slightly glazed over which showed she was still more drunk than sober but it'd have to do. She smiled, pushing herself up.

"Hi honey. Is it Friday already?" She laughed as she spoke, reaching out to smooth back his hair clumsily. "How was school?"

"Same as always." He said quietly, returning the smile. "Did you call off work tonight?" She only looked confused for a moment and then she was pushing back the blankets and trying to stand up. He caught her by the arm and held her steady as she stood. She smiled again.

"I must have lost track of time, I don't know where my mind is these days. Did you bring Dean with you?" She looked around as she spoke as if Portman may just step out of the shadows. "I think I made that tuna noodle stuff he likes so much for you two. I hope you brought him, I don't like you to be home by yourself."

"Yeah, he's out in the living room."

His parents really liked Portman, even though Fulton didn't think he'd ever get over the strangeness of them calling him 'Dean' and how easily he fit in with his family. He'd always thought that someone walking into his place would result in pity or judgment or a call to Child Services but Portman had just helped him put his parents to bed, clean up, and left it at that.

He had to admit it was easier somehow, to know that Portman was right behind him and willing to help without question or a word. It was hard to explain, even to himself because he'd never thought of what he had to do as hard or anything, but it was just...well, it was easier now.

"That's good." She nodded to herself as she said it then frowned. "Honey, have you seen my pills? I don't know where...hmm."

She reached out, hand shaking as she tried to reach the bedside table. He frowned and carefully took her other hand and carefully guiding her out of the room. Her head swiveled so she could look back at him, eyes wide and questioning, reminding him vaguely of one of those baby birds on the animal shows just before it got it's head torn off by a fox or whatever.

"You go get ready for work and I'll look."

"Oh." She turned forward, head bobbing in agreement. "Okay. You're such a good boy Fulton, you take such good care of me." He smiled and nodded, keeping silent until she was safely in the bathroom. He waited outside of the door until he heard the water came on then shut the door. If she was in there too long he'd come back and check on her but it was rare that she fell asleep in the bath.

He made a stop in the kitchen to get a glass of water and found Portman sitting at the table, Fulton's Algebra notebook in front of him. Two beers sat, rather non-assuming, on the table and, once the water was secure, he picked one up and headed back to his parent's bedroom.

He set down what he had then set about doing what he needed to get her ready for work. He found the waitress uniform she'd need tonight, her jacket, and the shirt she'd need for the gas station in the morning. He threw it over his shoulder so he could wash it after she left, then set about rummaging around in the drawer of the bedside table. It was full of stuff as it always was but he settled with a bottle of Tylenol, a pack of Newports, a pack of Camels, two twenties, and an orange bottle full of something there was no way he could pronounce made out to a 'Kettler, William'.

He opened the bottle and shook two into his hand before capping it and dropping it on the bed with his mother's uniform. The Newports, Tylenol, and a five from his wallet went into her coat, from which he removed one of five lighters. Next came the necklace, earrings, and hairbrush, which he put next to the glass of water before turning on the bedside lamp so she could see it all. He scratched his head with his free hand, trying to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything.

He picked the beer back up and, after dry swallowing the pills, twisted the cap off and dropped it in the small garbage can next to his parent's bed. He took a drink, the bitter taste soothing the more harsh bitterness of the pills, then headed back out. He still needed to call the diner and let them know his mother was going to be late and then call the gas station to let them know the same.

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"Did your mother go to work?" Was the first thing his father said to him when he walked through the door, gesturing to him with a bottle of something in his hand. The oder of alcohol, maybe scotch, intermixed with the heavy scent of some kind of perfume hurried ahead of him and began to spread around the apartment.

"Yes." Fulton said without looking away from the TV. It was one in the morning, making his father only an hour later this time around, and X-Files repeats were showing and if anything demanded his full attention it was the X-Files.

"Things good at school?"

"Yes."

"Is Dean here?"

"Yes."

This time there was a pause like his father was thinking followed by a cough and "Did your mother make anything for dinner?"

"Nope." She had meant to, as the cans of tuna and bag of noddles all sitting on the kitchen table attested to, but she hadn't actually done it. She wasn't that good of a cook so he was far from upset and instead was glad she'd even thought to cook for them at all.

"Of course not." There was a shuffling and a shadow passing behind the TV set. "Did you?"

"Yes."

His father made a noise that Fulton was pretty sure meant 'thanks'. He heard him rustling around and then the whir of the microwave filled the air. It dinged a minute later and, after some more rustling the shadow that was his father headed off down the hall. He smiled wanly at the thought of his father, a man who towered over him to this day, as little more than a shadow flitting around the apartment, darting in and out of corners.

He really should have been heading to bed, not up watching TV. Orion had called for before-noon practice at the school and Fulton knew better than to think he'd be able to deal with the man's usual schedule on no sleep. He'd tried it once and had been lucky he hadn't passed out by the time it was all said and done. He sighed, rubbing at his eyes, and cursing the headache that was beginning to build behind them. The TV went off and he made his way through the dark apartment, the only light streaming from his parent's bedroom. He passed the door, waving at his father absently.

He stopped however when he realized his father had, it seemed, fallen asleep already. He was sprawled on the bed, plate untouched on the table and bottle firmly in his grasp. Fulton shook his head then shuffled in, grabbing the blankets his mother had tossed to the floor earlier. He set them aside then crouched to untie his father's shoes. He had them both off before a sleepy groan made him look up. His father leaned up slightly and blinked down at him, looking almost confused.

"I talked to your Aunt Iris today."

"What'd she say?" Fulton put the shoes aside and picked up the blankets again.

Iris was Damien's mother and his father's older sister. They were a group of five, his Uncle Kurt, Iris, his Uncle Cyrus, his father, and his Aunt Lily, Blair's mother. Fulton had more cousins than some people had family period and some of his cousins already had children, as he, Blair, and Damien had been the 'babies' among the cousins.

For reasons Fulton would never understand his father had never gotten along with his brothers and sisters. Lily had once suggested it may have been because he'd no longer been the baby when she was born and thus hadn't really been 'anything': Kurt and Iris were the twins, Cyrus was the middle child, and Lily was the baby while his father just was. His dad didn't seem like the sort to get worked up about that sort of thing but he supposed it was possible.

"She said Blair and Damien got accepted to that school of yours." His dad said, an almost disturbingly serious look on his face. "She wants me to get them from the airport next Saturday. I told her I would."

Fulton just stared, wondering if this was actually going somewhere or if his father was just rambling again. He'd suspected rambling before but sometimes he was wrong. "Okay."

"I know you three can get a little wild when you get together. Stay careful. Be out of trouble."

"Okay dad." He wasn't sure how to take that and figured he should, as always, just be grateful that his parents gave a damn about him at all. His father closed his eyes again and this time didn't reopen them. Fulton carefully took away his bottle and covered him up. He rubbed his eyes again then opened the drawer to eye the contents. He settled on a bottle with the label missing that was close enough to empty that his mother was unlikely to remember she hadn't taken them all.

Back in his room Portman was taking up almost the whole of the bed and had lost the comforters to the floor at some point, leaving himself twisted up in a sheet. He rolled his eyes, less than impressed with his friend's bedhog ways. He had half a mind to throw something at his head or shove him off the bed.

Not that he really had a bed exactly, so much as two queen mattresses his father had found somewhere, laid on his floor, and pushed together a few years back. If it had been a normal bed he was pretty sure that the accepted rules of 'malehood', in which sharing a bed with another guy was strictly forbidden, would have had one of them sleeping on the floor.

He threw one of the comforters back on Portman who mumbled something in his sleep then rolled over and fell silent. Fulton watched for a second longer then headed for his window. He was facing the side of the building and had the fire escape attached to his window, which was convenient for when he needed to get past his parents without waking them up. He opened it and tossed what he'd taken out his parents room out along with the other comforter and his Algebra book. He climbed out after then put the textbook on the windowsill so it wouldn't accidentally close behind him.

He covered himself up to fight off the slight chill in the air then settled back to wait for sunrise, no longer really in the mood to sleep and hoping that whatever was tinkling around in the small orange bottle was the sort of something that would make him tired, but rather the sort of something that would keep him awake.

He glanced back inside at Portman then slumped down against the wall. No, sleeping in there was just not on the table right now. Code of maleness approved or not, he just couldn't do it. He'd like to chalk it up to it being too weird to be that close to Portman but, considering their beds were seperated by all of four inches back at Eden Hall, it didn't exactly hold up.

On the brightside he'd been right about his father drinking Scotch. He wondered if there was work in being able to identify alcohol by scent.

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TBC...

Selena: It just isn't as much fun if you don't end on a slightly depressing note.

Dimitri: You know, I think the word of the day should be addiction.

Tai: Naaaah, we're saving that word for the serious stuff.

Dimitri: Oh. I...see.


End file.
